


We'll be okay. We're safe.

by ThatsrightZoeyeyye



Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 (but i'm cheating a little bit) [10]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: After the events of the show, And softness, F/F, F/M, Hope, I love them all, LetThemBeHappy2k19, Loss, M/M, Pain, Sorrow, This is what they deserve, and happiness, and they're happpy!, but safety, featuring grief, nothing happens, they're all alive and going to Hidgens' house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21596263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsrightZoeyeyye/pseuds/ThatsrightZoeyeyye
Summary: “Five.” Paul said. The end was close.“Three.” Becky breathed out.Tick. Tick.And it was over. Black Friday was over. The bells of a nearby church started ringing cheerily, perhaps too cheerily after the massacre they had witnessed, but the happy tune brought a smile to their faces, and they felt relief wash over them slowly as they realized that they were safe. That it was over. That they would be okay.
Relationships: Alice/Deb (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Becky Barnes/Tom Houston, Cineplex guy/Hot chocolate boy, Mr Davidson/Carol, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 (but i'm cheating a little bit) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498919
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	We'll be okay. We're safe.

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I want? For them to be happy. They might not all have survived, but I saved a bunch of them, and you'd better believe they're going to move in with Hidgens and live their best life. It's what they deserve.
> 
> Edit: i wrote this based on the digital ticket, and in the ending scene joey richter was playing the cineplex kid. however, in the youtube version, he was playing ted! im very happy about this development, but keep in mind while reading this that ted wasn't there (rip)

“Here we go.” Tom said, his voice wavering, staring at the slowly ticking watch hands.

A little group of survivors had gathered around them, standing closer and closer, trying to feel safe.

“Fifteen seconds left.” Becky whispered.

The silence was excruciating, each second passing torturously slowly, each ticking of the watch too loud.

“Nine.” Hannah exclaimed, fear and excitement showing in her voice.

“Seven.” Emma continued.

They huddled closer together, holding strangers' hands, to feel the comfort and safety of companionship.

“Five.” Paul said, more confidently. The end was close.

“Three.” Becky breathed out.

Tick. Tick.

And it was over. Black Friday was over. The bells of a nearby church started ringing cheerily, perhaps too cheerily after the massacre they had witnessed, but the happy tune brought a smile to their faces, and they felt relief wash over them slowly as they realized that they were safe. That it was over. That they would be okay.

They stood straighter, looking around themselves, trying to see if they recognized anyone.

Lex turned to Hannah and wrapped her arms around her. The little girl's arms snaked around her waist, a rare sign of affection.

“Ethan?” Lex murmured hesitantly, in a last rush of hope.

She felt her sister's head move from one side to the other and held her tighter in her arms. She had been expecting it, but still felt her heart get heavier with grief. At least Hannah was alive. She reminded herself of that fact, trying to hold the pain away. They could mourn Ethan later. In that moment, they had each other.

A car door opened and Tim ran out, calling for his dad. His smile was wider than it had been in months. Tom picked him up easily and hugged him tightly, trying to convey all the love he held for his son in a bone crushing hug. Next to them, a man in a red sweater noticed the presence of an other man.

“Bill?” he shouted disbelievingly.

“Marc?” Bill exclaimed, a relieved smile making its way on his face at the sight of his friend. “You didn't show up to work, I thought you were dead!”

“You said you couldn't get a Wiggly for your daughter, and I knew you couldn't take the day off,” Marc explained, “so I went to Toy Zone to get you one. I was there when people started rioting, I-”

He stopped talking, afraid to admit the things he had done during the fights, driven out of his mind by the doll. Bill seemed to understand.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I will be,” Marc assured him, “but what happened to you?”

“I was at CCRP when everyone went mad. Mr Davidson and I managed to escape, but I don't know what happened to the others.”

Charlotte approached them hesitantly.

“I think I'm the only other survivor,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

“Where's Ted?” Marc asked. He disliked the man, but knew how much Charlotte cared about him.

Charlotte looked down at her shaking hands, covered in dry blood. A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I don't know what came over me,” she whimpered.

Marc and Bill shared a look. Of pain, grief. He might have been a sleezeball, Ted was still fun to be around sometimes. They also knew that Charlotte always blamed herself for everything, especially when it wasn't her fault. She would probably hate herself for this day until she died. Bill hugged her, holding her shaking body in his arms. He wished she could understand how much she was worth.

“It's okay, Char'”, he said firmly, “it's not your fault.”

He would have to say it more than once for her to believe him, but he was determined.

“And Sam?” Paul asked. He had come closer while they were talking, a hand holding one of Emma's tightly. Mr Davidson joined them as well.

“There was an other massacre at the precinct,” the latter stated, his voice emotionless, resigned, “everyone who works there is dead.”

A sob escaped Charlotte, and Bill noticed the sorrow in his boss's eyes.

“Doesn't...?” he started hesitantly.

“Carol works there as well.” Mr Davidson stated. “Worked.”

Silence fell for a few seconds, heavy. They had all met Carol, at the CCRP Christmas parties, or when she dropped by on Fridays after her shift at the precinct. A cheerful, vibrant woman, always greeting them with a gigantic smile. Her presence spread happiness like no one else's. Everyone had loved her.

She had loved her husband deeply, fully. There was no doubting that: they had all seen the way she looked at him, like her whole world depended on him, her eyes shining with such profound happiness whenever he was by her side. And his love for her had been the same, if not deeper.

Standing there, alone, Mr Davidson looked like only one half of a picture. Everyone was so used to seeing him with her by his side, either physically or as a portrait, a phone background, or her name on his lips. Even Charlotte felt like her grief was small compared to his.

He slid a hand over his face, sighing quietly. A voice rung behind him.

“Uncle David?”

They turned to see a young man in a grey hoodie looking at Mr Davidson disbelievingly.

“Shawn?” David Davidson asked.

His nephew nodded, and they both smiled a little. Mr Davidson put a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed, trying to convey his feelings through the touch. Grief, relief, sadness, hope.

Silence filled the night for a moment, only tainted by Charlotte's sobs, before a school bus came around the corner. It suddenly stopped in front of them, the brakes screeching loudly, echoing in the night, and they recoiled, afraid of who was inside.

“Dad!” a voice cried out as a figure stumbled out of the bus.

“Alice!” Bill shouted, and he ran towards her. Marc caught Charlotte in his arms.

Alice ran towards his father and threw herself in his arms. He caught her, surprised. She hadn't hugged him in years. He held onto her like she was the most precious thing in his life. She was.

“I was so scared,” she cried, in a vulnerable voice she hadn't let her father hear in years, “Deb and I were at the park next to Hatchetfield High when people came. They attacked us, I thought they were going to kill us but Deb protected me. She stole a bus and drove us away. I was sure you'd died too.”

Bill frowned. He did not like Deb. As he raised his head, though, he saw his daughter's girlfriend hesitantly walk up to them, her eyes fixed on Alice, full of worry. As much as he disliked her, he had to admit that she had saved his daughter, and it was obvious she loved her.

Bill let go of Alice and let Deb wrap an arm around her shoulder. He nodded at her, a solemn look on his face, and she nodded back.

He turned around and caught a glance of Marc's smile. Paul, Charlotte and Mr Davidson were smiling too. Bill felt the corners of his mouth shoot up as well.

“We should go,” Tom said, “we don't know if any of them is still out there. Emma, you mentioned a biology professor who could keep us safe?”

She raised her head, startled back to reality.

“Yeah! His whole house is like a panic room,” she exclaimed, “he's like a-” she frowned, “what do you call a guy that lives in a fortress?”

“Do you mean a doomsday survivalist?” a boy's voice asked.

They all turned to see two teenagers holding each other's hands as if they were lifelines, a few feet away from the group. One was wearing suspenders and a bow tie. He was a Beanies regular, named Jeremy, and Emma was sure she had seen the other boy there as well. His Cineplex insignia showed that his name was Kevin.

“Yes, that's it,” Emma exclaimed, “he thinks the world is ending! He's been preparing for the last twenty years for the apocalypse!”

“The apocalypse?” Charlotte whimpered. “Is that what this is? Maybe we should go to a church.”

“We can't do that,” Becky interrupted her, “it isn't safe, we need to go somewhere safe. I think the professor is the safest option.”

Mr. Davidson squeezed Charlotte's shoulder, trying to comfort her, and she nodded.

“How can we go there?” Shawn asked. Deb grinned.

“I have a bus.”

“Do you have a license?” Bill frowned.

Before Deb could answer, Tom walked up to the bus.

“I've driven big vehicles in war zones before, I'll drive us there. Everyone climb in.”

Hannah ran first, claiming the seat at the back of the bus, never letting go of her sister's hand. The others followed, and soon, they were all inside. Tom drove them to the outskirts of the town, following Emma's indications.

ooo

They reached a gigantic house, with fences twice as high as the bus, a huge block of concrete inside, looking like an impenetrable island. It looked like nothing could destroy it. It was ugly, but it seemed safe, and it was all that they needed.

Emma went to the gate, and a voice rang through the speaker.

“Who is it?”

“Professor Hidgens!” she exclaimed, relieved to hear his voice. She had been worried that he might have been downtown, for whatever reason, while the riots were happening.

“Don't lie to me, whoever you are! I'm Professor Hidgens!”

“No, Professor, it's me, Emma Perkins? The entire world has gone crazy, I didn't know where else to go.”

“You've gone to the right place! Hold on, I'll let you in!”

Emma sighed with relief as she heard her professor order Alexa to open the gates. She got back on the bus and they drove up the alley and into an immense underground garage, in which there was only an old Hudson Hornet, its blue paint faded, its right mirror broken.

Hidgens met them there, and ushered them up a few flights of stairs, until they reached the main room. It was about 20 feet large and 30 feet long. The walls were light grey, covered with various paintings, a gigantic TV screen in the middle of one of the walls. An eclectic collection of sofas and armchairs of different styles and colors filled half of the room, while a long table of dark wood stood in the other half, surrounded with high back chairs.

“There's... quite a lot of you,” he said once they were all in the room, “but not to worry, I have room for over forty people. I will not let humanity die on my watch. You are all welcome to stay here for as long as you wish.”

They all murmured thanks, sighing with relief.

“And if the outside world is never safe, you are welcome to stay here forever. I have enough resources to sustain each and everyone of you until the end of the world.”

It would have sounded rather dramatic, had it not been for the events of the day. In that moment, they felt safe, hopeful, and a bright future seemed to be ahead of them.

They discussed the situation, sharing everything they knew about the Wiggly doll, Moscow, the black and white, the outside world, the dangers of the future. Hidgens never once seemed surprised.

“I theorized this exact scenario nearly forty years ago,” he explained, “one of the first scenario I ever theorized.”

Everyone looked puzzled, and he ran a hand through his hair, looking at a painting dramatically. It was a swirl of blue, purple and green, fascinating, hypnotising, frightening in a way.

“If I must be honest with you,” he sighed, “I always wished I was wrong. All the other catastrophes I had imagined seemed easier to do deal with.”

He stood straighter.

“But I am prepared, children. With the help of modern technology, I have planned everything that will allow us to go through this situation.”

He smiled proudly.

“Alexa!” he called, “Initiate World War Three Program.”

There was a light beeping sound, then a loud noise, and the lights dimmed for a moment. The Professor's eyes were closed. When the engines when silent, he opened them again and beamed at them.

“There it is,” he sighed with content, “we are now protected from the outside world. Nothing on earth is strong enough to threaten us, not even the atomic bomb. I will be able to provide water, food, power, shelter, all other needs and comfort for as long as this house stands. It is now your home.”

He looked at each of them, one by one, a proud glint in his eyes, waiting for a reaction. Small smiles and muttered thanks answered his words, but everyone had gotten quite tired. It was one in the morning, and each of them had faced death all too recently. The Professor sighed, and led them through a hidden doorway behind a painting, and into a smaller room filled with bookshelves. An other door led to an even smaller room, with wooden floorboards and old leather sofas and armchairs.

“For the last twenty years, I have been stockpiling the bare essentials for human survival,” he said as he made his way to a cupboard, “one of them is booze.”

He opened the door to reveal shelves of bottles of alcohol.

“You have gone through a lot today, you might want something to 'take the edge off', as they say.”

He had tried his best to sound young and hip, and was quite satisfied with himself. He chuckled proudly.

Whispers of agreement were heard as the professor started handing bottles of beer. Deb walked up to Alice with two in her hands. She met Bill's gaze and stopped in her tracks, looking between her girlfriend and him. Eventually, he nodded, grabbing a bottle of his own.

“Cheers, girls,” he muttered as he brought the beer to his lips.

He still disliked the taste, but there was something comforting in knowing that he had nothing to worry about, that he could drink all he wanted. No car to drive in case of urgency: the Professor would take care of everything. No daughter to look after: she had a girlfriend who cared enough. No ex-wife's angry phone calls to worry about: she had probably died as well. No work the next day. No worries or concerns.

Marc smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was trapped in a fortress and the world was ending, but he was felt freer and safer than he ever had in his life.

Everyone started easy conversation, unsure whether to talk about Wiggly or avoid the topic at all costs. They talked in whispers as Hannah and Tim slowly fell asleep on a sofa. They were tired, the adrenaline of an eventful day having worn off. Soon they finished their beers and conversations, and they suggested to head to bed.

“I have about twenty rooms,” Hidgens announced, “each of them has two beds, closets, desks, a bathroom, a balcony, everything you need to be comfortable. I assume you will be quite happy here.”

They nodded at his words, sharing glances, deciding who would room together, feeling like middle-schoolers on a school trip. Soon, they had all paired up, and the Professor led them down a corridor lined with white doors.

ooo

Lex carried her sleeping sister into the first room, gently setting her down on one of the beds. She sat next to her on the small bed, brushed a strand of her from the little girl's face and sighed.

“I'm sorry Banana,” she whispered, “everything's going to be okay now.”

Hannah shifted in her sleep, but didn't wake up. Lex sighed, got rid of her jeans and bra and slid under the covers, falling fast asleep.

ooo

In the second room, Paul and Emma each sat on one bed in silence.

“Hey, Emma.” Paul called hesitantly once they had both changed into pajamas they had found in the closet.”

She hummed in response, to let him know she was listening.

“I know we weren't downtown when the riots happened,” he mumbled, “but we still could have died today.”

Emma nodded, facing Paul, still silent.

“And, I don't know if you really get what I mean but,” he paused, looking down at his hands, “I was thinking about how you could have died too. And it made me feel really sad, because, well, I care about you Emma, and I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth, but she stayed silent, knowing that Paul had more things to say, unsure what she was supposed to say herself.

“This morning,” Paul said, “I introduced myself as your boyfriend, and you said-” he sighed, his brow furrowed, “you probably don't want to talk about it, it's late, and I'm overthinking things again, we should just go to sleep-”

“No, Paul,” she interrupted him, “I think it's time for us to, you know,” she hesitated, looking a little reluctant, resigned and determined, “talk, about us.”

She smiled a little, and he seemed relieved. He nodded.

“This morning,” he continued, more confident, yet still unsure, “you said we hadn't put a label on it yet. And I know that, and I don't want to rush you into things, but I thought, you know, it's been a while since we started dating, and I think we're-” he hesitated, “I think it works, what we have.”

He looked down at his hands.

“It does,” she smiled, “I really like you Paul.”

He looked up, smiling hesitantly. Emma bit her bottom lip, scratching her thigh absentmindedly.

“In fact,” she breathed in deeply, and locked eyes with him, “I love you.”

She tried to sound like she meant it, because she did. She loved Paul, and she wanted him to know. He smiled shyly, then more broadly, like an excited child. Emma rarely got to see him so genuinely happy, and she smiled wider too.

“You're the best boyfriend I could have ever dreamed to have.”

She wasn't used to talking like that, never really a sappy person, but the way Paul's eyes shone made it worth it. She walked up to him and kissed him gently, lovingly, tenderly, desperate to let him know how much he meant to her.

For a second, she wished Jane could be there, so she could tell her, show her, that she was capable of love too. Of loving, of being loved. But she chased that thought, settling in the comfort and the warmth of her boyfriend's arms.

ooo

Tom helped his son change into pajamas in silence, tucked him tight in bed and sat next to him on the mattress. Tim looked up to him, tired, sad.

“I love you, Tim,” Tom said, quietly, brushing a strand of hair from his son's face.

The boy smiled a little.

“I love you too, dad,” he mumbled. Seconds later, he was asleep.

Tom smiled a little, his heart swelling with a feeling he couldn't quite place. Bubbly happiness mixed with nostalgia, grief, sorrow. A little pride, a little pain, a little relief, a little sadness. Tim rarely told him he loved him. It was the first time since Jane's death.

ooo

Marc collapsed on his bed as soon as he walked in his room, sighing loudly. Bill silently sat on the other bed, taking off his tie.

“Hey, Marc,” he called. The other man sat up and smiled at his friend.

“Thank you,” Bill murmured, “for trying to get a Wiggly for Alice. It means a lot to me.”

“Anything for you, Bill,” Marc smiled, and Bill felt his heart flutter.

He wanted to hug him, to hold him in his arms and make sure he knew how much he meant to him. Towards the end of his relationship with his ex-wife, Marc had always been there. Through every argument and fight, through all the pain and hurt, through the divorce and the fight for custody of Alice, the loss, he had been there, kind, supportive, patient, with his never ending smile and the stars in his eyes.

The house felt empty without Alice, but Marc was there to cheer him up. They watched silly movies, read in silence on his couch, worked on his kitchen table with mellow music in the background, cooked nice dinners together, drank a little too much wine. Bill always felt dizzy, and the alcohol wasn't the only reason. Marc would laugh, a loud, booming sound of pure joy, and Bill's heart would squeeze in his chest. Marc's smile was the most precious sound in the world. In his world, at least.

Bill looked down, feeling his cheeks heating. Being a forty-something divorced man with a teenage daughter and in being love with his best friend wasn't easy. It felt like a delight and a torture, and he hoped it would never stop.

“We should sleep,” Marc whispered, “it's getting late.”

Bill nodded. They changed quietly, turned off the light, and settled under the blankets. Bill could see Marc's open eyes from the other side of the room.

“Good night, Marc,” he murmured, half-asleep.

“Sweet dreams,” Marc answered half-consciously, “love you.”

Bill knew it had just slipped, but he still fell asleep with a smile on his face.

ooo

In the next room were Charlotte and Becky. They had had some classes together in high school. They hadn't been particularly close, but had gotten along well and considered each other friends. After graduation, they hadn't spent much time together, only smiling at each other when they saw each other at the mall. They had missed each other.

Charlotte sat on the edge of one of the beds, trembling, holding her hands close to her chest.

“Char'?” Becky murmured, “you okay?”

She raised her head slowly, and held out her hands in front of her. They were shaking, and still bloodied. Becky frowned slightly, then offered an encouraging smile. She caught her friend's hands and led her to the bathroom.

“I killed the man I loved,” Charlotte whispered, her voice so small Becky almost didn't hear it.

It suddenly hit her that she'd never told Ted she loved him. For years, they'd danced around each other, holding onto each other, sleeping together more and more often. He kept asking her out on dates, she kept refusing, running away, then running back to him. Away and back to him. Away and back again, terrified of losing Sam and terrified of loosing Ted. Terrified of making the wrong choice and terrified of missing her chance.

She had loved him for what felt like an eternity, denied it since the very beginning. Terrified of the meaning of it. Terrified of making the wrong choice. She'd run away, and back to him. Terrified of missing her chance. Away, and back to him. Again, and again. She'd never told him she loved him, always telling him she loved Sam. She wasn't sure she did anymore, but she was terrified of making the wrong choice. And Ted had died, by her hands. And Sam had died. She had missed her chance. She had made the wrong chance.

“Wiggly killed the man you loved,” Becky murmured, “I killed the man I loved.”

Charlotte looked up at her, confused, surprised, too tired and overwhelmed by her sorrow to understand what Becky meant.

“I killed him.” Becky repeated, then she chuckled, trying to relieve some tension. “It's crazy, I promised myself I would never tell anyone, and I told two people in one day.”

She sighed deeply, taking Charlotte's hands and pouring warm water on them, brushing them softly with soap.

“What happened today isn't your fault,” Becky said, her voice gentle, “you can't blame yourself for it.”

The blood washed away in the sink, and with it a bit of Charlotte's guilt.

“I killed the man I promised to love and care for until death do us part,” Becky said, a hint of regret, of guilt in her voice, but she didn't seem sorry.

“He broke the promise first,” she added, sounded more certain.

She sighed, drying Charlotte's hands with a towel.

“He was supposed to keep me safe. Beating me wasn't supposed to be a part of marriage.”

She had repeated these words many times before, trying to convince herself that she didn't have to feel guilty, that it was the right thing to do. It still felt strange, it still felt like the wrong choice.

Becky turned to walk back into the room, but Charlotte caught her arm. Without a word, she lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing dark bruises lining the side of her ribcage, some almost healed, some still too new.

“Sam,” she whispered, and Becky seemed to understand. She pulled Charlotte in her arms, and they held onto each other, in a tight hug that felt like understanding, like comfort, like a promise.

“We're safe now,” Becky murmured in the other woman's shoulder, “it's over.” Charlotte nodded. It was over, they'd be safe.

ooo

When Shawn walked in the room where he would stay, presumably until he died, he sighed. Engulfed in the old grey sweater he was wearing, he turned to his uncle. David Davidson had been in the family for longer than he had, having married Shawn's aunt, Carol, before he was even born. They had had no children, and had loved him like a son.

After his father's death, when he was seven, David had filled the hole. After his mother's death, when he was twenty-three, Carol and David had taken care of him, getting him through the end of college, the first jobs, the first apartements he had to pay for, the first problems. Though Carol had lost a sister, she had stayed full of life, and had made sure Shawn did too.

Carol had died. For the third time, Shawn had lost a parent. His uncle stood at the window, staring at the dark night sky, in which only a few stars were able to shine through the city lights. David had lost his wife. Shawn realised he had no idea how much pain his uncle must be going through. He had loved her so deeply, probably too much so. His whole life had depended on her and, as he stood there, Shawn could see how empty he felt. He walked up to him and looked at the moon, high in the sky. He could only see a slim portion of it, most of its light escaping away from the Earth.

“We should sleep,” he told his uncle, “it's late.”

His uncle looked at him, and Shawn had never seen anyone with such empty eyes. All light seemed to have escaped them, dying with Carol. In his uncle's eyes, Shawn could only see pain. A numb kind of pain, too profound and all-consuming to keep feeling. An empty kind of pain, no longer sharp or burning, barely a whisper that seemed to have lost meaning. A pain too big, that his brain seemed unable to comprehend.

Every time he remembered that Carol was dead, the only reaction David could feel was denial. “Carol is dead. She's gone. It's over. Forever.” he would remember. And his mind would scream “NO”, a shout that filled his body with sorrow. She couldn't be dead. It was impossible. It couldn't be. Yet, each time, he would remember, and violently, desperately throw the thought away. There was a little hope that she had survived. That she had made it out. That he could hold her again. It was too small, too fleeting to hold on too.

He felt empty, alone, lost. He had never been able to imagine a life without Carol. He had thought about it, a few times. Everyone always did. But he was never strong enough to pursue the thought, to go through with it, to let himself imagine what it would be. It felt too unlikely. He had thought he would wake up by her side every day for an other thirty year at least, that he had nothing to worry about, that he would be okay.

He felt Shawn leading him to one of the beds, heard his muffled voice telling him he needed to sleep, let his nephew remove his shoes and slid him under the covers. He fell asleep as soon as his head fell on the pillow.

ooo

Jeremy and Kevin walked into a room. No one had minded them much all afternoon. The others all seemed to know each other in one way or an other. They hadn't tried to talk to them, sitting on a couch by themselves in silence, holding hands, like they often did, glad to be alive, glad to be together, glad to have a future.

“At least we don't have to go to school anymore, I guess,” Jeremy chuckled, removing his suspenders and putting them down at the end of his bed.

“Too bad, I'm really going to miss SATs,” Kevin grinned, getting rid of his Cineplex black polo shirt, like every time his shift ended. It was nice to know there would be no other shift, and that it wouldn't matter.

They looked at each other and laughed, a soft laugh of relief and hope. No more high school. No more worries about college. No more shitty jobs. No more classmates. No more teenagers. Well, two teenagers, but they were gay, apparently, so no more bullying. None of the adults seemed bothered by the girls dating, hadn't seemed to be bothered by them holding hands all night. Maybe they would okay.

Jeremy smiled sweetly, removing his boyfriend's glasses and his own, setting them down on his nightstand. He brushed a hand through Kevin's hair and rested it on the side of his face, kissing him gently. They smiled through the kiss. They would be okay.

ooo

When Alice and Deb had decided to stay in a room together, that had waited for Bill's disapproval, concern, or a general negative reaction. But he had just nodded at them and looked back at Marc, smiling.

They entered the room and Deb pulled Alice into a kiss, holding her face like she was afraid of letting go, and Alice kissed her back, bringing her hands to her girlfriend's hair. They kissed desperately, like they'd been meaning to for hours. They had. Over the last few hours, they had either been running for their lives or standing right next to Alice's father. But alone in their room, with no one watching, they held onto each other, too aware of how close they had been to loosing the other, terrified of living a life in which the other wasn't there.

They were both crying, and Alice realised she had never seen Deb cry before. She brushed a thumb over her girlfriend's cheeks and kissed away her tears. Deb sobbed, wrapping her arms around her and burying her head in her girlfriend's shoulder.

“I thought we were going to die,” she cried, and Alice brushed her hand through the other girl's hair. Deb had always seemed so strong, unbothered, invincible, unbreakable, but in that moment, she remembered how young they were. They were just teenagers, just a few months in their senior year of high school. They were supposed to be carefree, careless. They weren't supposed to almost die.

Alice held Deb closer, trying to comfort her girlfriend like she had so many times, desperate to make her understand how much she meant to her. She kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of the girl she loved. There was a faint smell of weed and sweat, but mostly her vanilla shampoo, her mother's laundry product, Alice's perfume. It smelled like home.

ooo

When she left her room with her sister in search of the kitchen the next morning, she realised everyone was already up, sitting somewhere in the living room with a bowl or a mug. They were also all staring at the TV screen.

The Professor was standing in the middle of the room with a big strange controller, and Lex soon realised that what she could see on the screen was Hatchetfield. It was dark, silent, many buildings gone up in flames, like a post-apocalyptic version of what it had been. It probably was. She shuddered, unsure of what to think, knowing she had survived the apocalypse.

“What are you doing?” she asked, unsure what she wanted the answer to be.

“I sent drones downtown, in case there is still someone alive there. I also wanted to check the state of what is left.”

Lex nodded. She didn't know how long they had been there, looking at the screen from which almost no sound came. Occasionally, a dog would appear, limping, and bark at the drone until it had turned the corner.

After what felt like forever, but were only thirty very intense minutes, they saw a light shine from a window. Someone had probably lit a fire in a fireplace, desperate for warmth, believing themself to be the only survivor. They all sat straighter, and the Professor looked very concentrated as he maneuvered closer to the small house. The door wasn't even closed. He flew the machine inside, through a corridor and into a dark, half-destroyed living room.

Inside, there was someone, curled up in an armchair pushed close to the fireplace. Hearing the noise, the figure stood up, pointing a gun at the machine.

“Go away!” a voice screamed, and they had full view of the person.

It seemed to be a woman, in a dusty, bloody police uniform. Her short blond hair was unkempt, and tear tracks ran through the dirt and dry blood that covered her face.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, her voice trembling slightly. The grip on her gun was steady, certain. If she shot, the drone would be lost.

Lex heard movement next to her, and a man, whose name was David, she had seemed the understand the previous day, rushed to the Professor. There was something on his face that they couldn't quite understand, and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak, gaping at the screen with his face torn with something that looked like fear.

“It's her!” an other man's voice shouted from the other end of the room. Lex was pretty sure his name was Shawn.

“It's Carol!” he cried, a smile spreading on his face.

David let out a laugh, of nerve, relief, hope, happiness.

“Do you know this woman?” the Professor asked, and David and Shawn nodded.

“Alexa, let David speak to her,” he ordered, and a small device descended from the ceiling, attached by a dark green metal bar. David caught it.

“Carol!” he breathed out in it. He still seemed unsure, like it couldn't be real, like he didn't dare to hope.

The woman on the screen lowered her gun, her face matching her husband's.

“David?” she whispered.

“Carol.” David repeated, a sob escaping his lips.

Everyone looked away, feeling like they were listening to something that wasn't for them. The woman brought a hand to her mouth and started crying, overwhelmed with joy.

“I thought you were dead,” she sobbed, “everyone at the precinct was dying, I left to find you but the CCRP building was in flames and I heard on the radio that everyone there had died. I thought you were dead.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and David held onto the microphone, like it could somehow make her know everything he was feeling. The Professor started speaking.

“Good morning Carol,” he said in a calm voice, “I need you to focus.”

She breathed in deeply and nodded, her eyes focusing on the machine. She brushed the tears from her face, squared her shoulders and put her gun back in the handle, standing straight, like she had been taught.

“I can take you to a safe location where you will be reunited with David here. But you will have to proceed with caution, there could still be dangerous people out there.”

She nodded curtly, a look of determination on her face. She put out the fire, tied her hair in a ponytail and straightened her uniform. She looked like nothing could stop her, and David was beaming proudly at the screen.

The professor gave her directions, and she walked through the empty streets, observed by the small drone. Everyone watched her journey anxiously. It had taken twenty minutes of difficult progress through half-destroyed streets for them to drive to the Professor's house, and they knew it would take longer for her to walk there, but she had a strong and fast pace, looking ahead with a determined look on her face, like nothing in the world could ever bring her down.

After an excruciatingly long hour, she finally reached the gates. On the Professor's orders, Alexa opened the door for Carol, and she walked up the alley and into the house.

When she entered the room, there was a silence as she looked at her husband. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes got lost in his. David mimicked her, and, for a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other. They then seemed to both be brought back to reality, and they walked up to each other, slowly, almost unsure.

And they were standing in a feet away from each other. She looked down at him and he looked up at her. Their eyes flicked across the other's face as they finally realised that it was real, that they were both alive. Carol wrapped her arms around her husbands shoulders and he wrapped hers around her body, burying his head in her shoulder. They held onto each other as if they were the only things left in the world, and they cried softly.

ooo

Over the next few months, they slowly adapted to their life at the Professor's.

Every day, they would help around the house as they could. They took turns cooking, cleaning, keeping the garden, taking care of the animals. The Professor, as it turned out, owned a small farm: his garden was full of fruit trees, the vegetable patch was big enough to feed them all and stockpile the rest for the future, and he had a few goats and hens, as well as an old, lazy, friendly dog. There were even a swimming pool and a gazebo, and the house was gigantic, with more room and more silly gadgets than they could imagine.

Over the next few years, life was easier than it had ever been.

Deb, Lex and Charlotte quit smoking, with the others' help, and because the Professor only had a limited supply of cigarettes.

Charlotte learnt to get over Ted's death and not blame herself for it. Hannah got closer to Tim, and for the first time in her life, she had a friend of her age, someone she got along with, who understood and accepted her enough to know how to care for her.

Tom and Becky learnt to build back their relationship, over loss, fragile memories, wrong starts, with enough love, enough patience, enough time.

David and Carol got closer than ever before, never leaving the other's side, afraid of loosing each other again. Then they started feeling safe again, allowing each other space, allowing themselves to trust the future. They loved each other more than they did before.

Marc confessed his feelings for Bill, almost on accident, and Bill smiled softly, giggling like a teenager in love, feeling like one again. When they kissed for the first time, Bill felt like he was where he was supposed to be, for the first time in years.

Emma asked Paul to marry her, and he gaped at her, thinking it was a joke. She pulled out a ring she had made out of flowers and he started crying. They got married under the gazebo, and a goat carried the rings. Emma swore she didn't cry when Paul recited his vow, but her mascara did look a little blurry.

The Professor taught Shawn everything he knew about technology. With that, he found a way to get Minecraft, and they all started a server. Lex and Emma fought over who could build the biggest fortress, and Charlotte decorated them with flowers. Bill and Marc built a small house by the sea, and Alice and Deb made one next to theirs. The Professor got really excited about redstone systems.

Deb asked Alice to marry her when they were twenty-four. Deb looked beautiful in a tuxedo, and Alice and Bill both cried when he walked her up the aisle.

Kevin and Jeremy didn't like the idea of marriage, but they promised each other to spend their lives together. They signed a piece of paper that meant nothing, and held a small ceremony for it. There was a lot of cake.

They organised in a small society, in which everyone had responsibilities, and they did they best to honor them. Though the land they had access to was small, they made the most of it, enjoying the life they had.

Outside, chaos never seemed to stop, but the Professor's technology never failed them.

They lived.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't kill Carol. I just couldn't.  
> Anyway, what do you think about this?


End file.
